The New Generation of Hogwarts
by slanderblob
Summary: NOT about Harry's obnoxious offspring...follows the hijinks of a new group of students at Hogwarts
1. A Quick Blurb

Because it has been a month since my last chapter for "As it Should Be" and I have gotten a bit bored waiting (not that I blame Mel--she's had a hectic summer and probably not any time to write) I have started a new story which I am co-authoring with my buddies Drew and Vandy. Vandy's account name is Greybane, by ze way. I hear tell he's working on a shwanky story...

But anyway. Our story is a pretty standard we-all-go-to-Hogwarts fic, but it doesn't get all annoying by tossing us among the conventional HP characters. Our story takes place after Harry and his buds have left Hogwarts and defeated Moldy Voldy, but before his obnoxious kids plague the school (shudder). Thus, we are not mysteriously intertwined with schemes to kill off Voldy and we do not have ridiculous powers and we are not saving the world. We do, however, have very interesting NEW ideas to explore! Each chapter is comprised of three journal entries from a specific House. The narrating characters are:

David Van de Vaalk, Melissa Brodie, Andrew Welby (Gryffindors)

Juliana Prince, Amanda Swane, Michael Lestrange (Slytherins)

Ali Kavanaugh, Sarah Shaddock, John Carrow (Hufflepuffs)

Davey Kilgour, Peter Knickerbacker, and Gwynneth Dwyre (Ravenclaws).

Vandy will be writing for the parts of David/Vandy, Michael, John, and Peter. Drew will be writing for Drew, Amanda, Ali, and Davey. I (Julie) will be writing for Melissa, Juliana, Sarah, and Gwynneth.

All characters are Hogwarts versions of our friends. Anyway, I hope you enjoy it! It promises to be very hilarious and yummy.

PS: I was really excited and I couldn't wait for Vandy to finish writing his journal entry, even if it supposed to be the first one in the chapter…so I uploaded the story with only Drew's and my entries. As soon as Vandy-Manly gets cracking on his part, I will add it into the chapter.


	2. Chapter 1: Gryffindor

Gryffindor

Melissa Brodie

September 1, 2007

As ours was one of the last carriages to reach the castle, Drew, Vandy, and I arrived just before the Sorting Ceremony. We trudged into the Great Hall and sank into our seats at the Gryffindor table, all greatly relieved to finally stuff our faces.

Before I could finish filling my plate with treacle tart and chicken wings, the over-zealous prefect on my right sharply slapped my hand away. "Pay attention, Miss Brodie! The Headmistress is going to give a speech," he said eagerly, indicating the Head Table. Sure enough, Professor McGonagall was rising to her feet while tapping her glass with a spoon to get the students' attention. To her left and right, I recognized all my old teachers from my first and second year: Slughorn, Flitwick, Sprout, Vance, Sinistra, and Binns. I especially made sure to give a smile to my favorite, Professor Binns, who was passing his ghostly hands through his heaping plate of roast beef in sad futility. He grinned back and waved, happily surprised to be acknowledged. Not to brag, but I am his favorite student. Or at least the only one who remains conscious long enough to absorb the subject matter…

"This will be short," announced the Headmistress. "I have no desire to deprive any of you from indulging in this wonderful feast." I smirked at the prefect next to me and resumed eating with relish. "There are but a few announcements before the Sorting Ceremony. First, I would like to introduce Hogwarts' new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, Professor Morgan." I glanced up to see her indicate a young man to her left who, even from a distance, was easily recognizable as a neat-freak. His brown hair was pristinely parted on the side and slicked down, and his chin was shaved so close that I doubted he could even grow stubble. Even the food on his plate was arranged in rows. I raised my eyebrows, applauding half-heartedly.

"Next," continued McGonagall, "Mr. Filch has asked me to remind you, for the last time, that unauthorized use of dungbombs is strictly prohibited in this school." I glanced over to the Hufflepuff table in time to see Sarah Shaddock sigh and look down at her plate sadly. "Finally, for goodness' sake, stay OUT of the Forbidden Forest! And now, for the sorting of the first years. Horace, if you will…"

Professor Slughorn nodded and stepped down beside the Sorting Hat in the center of the Hall as the double doors swung open and the first-years filed in. Before the dazed new students could fully take in their new surroundings, the hat erupted into its usual song routine.

"I was called forth when the school began

By the founders four,

To wisely judge and sort each child

Who walked through Hogwarts' door.

To Gryffindor, the House of courage,

Chivalry, and daring,

Or Hufflepuff, for those of kindness,

Loyalty, and caring.

Perhaps to Ravenclaw, for you

Who would enhance your minds,

Or Slytherin—"

The Sorting Hat was abruptly cut off by a loud, raucous "WOO, BABY!" from a lone voice at the Slytherin table. Instantly, everyone turned and stared, but the culprit had mysteriously fallen silent (although I could swear I saw Michael Lestrange trying not to smile). There was a pause, and then the entire student body burst into uncontrollable laughter.

"Be quiet! Be silent!" cried McGonagall, quite beside herself. "Allow the Sorting Hat to finish her song!" The poor hat, trembling as though close to tears, blurted out:

"Or Slytherin, the hateful,

The loathsome and the crude,

The home of arrogant biased fools,

The pathetic and the rude!

Who dash your hopes

And crush your dreams

And rip your—"

McGonagall cleared her throat sharply, shooting a pointed glance at the Hat. "And ambition, and drive," the Hat finished lamely, sulking.

Without further ado, Professor Slughorn unfurled a piece of parchment and began to read off the names of first-years to be sorted. Losing interest, I turned back to the feast before me, pausing to applaud and cheer along with Vandy and Drew every time I heard the Hat announce a new member of Gryffindor. "Class schedules!" the prefect near me suddenly announced, passing out slips of parchment among the third-years students, including myself.

"Aw, our schedules haven't changed a bit," complained Vandy, throwing his parchment down. "We still have double-potions with the Slytherins. And now we apparently share Care of Magical Creatures as well. What sadist came up with that arrangement, do you think?"

"Slytherins aren't all bad," I replied, somewhat defensively. "I mean, Julie is one of my best friends, and she's a Slytherin. And I know Mike Lestrange can be obnoxious, but he's not a bad sort, really."

"Right," snorted Vandy. "Introduce me to them sometime. I'm sure we'll all have fun chatting about blood purity over tea."

Before I could shoot back an angry retort, Drew cut in with, "So—Mel—what new classes did you sign up for?"

"Divination, Care of Magical Creatures, and Ancient Runes," I replied, fighting the impulse to throttle Vandy. "How about you?"

"Same, except I'm also taking Muggle Studies," he said.

"Jeez, four classes?" I gawked. "Mr. Freaky Over-Achiever. Go join the Ravenclaws while you're at it."

Before Vandy could chime in with his class choices, Professor Slughorn suddenly called out, "Bradley Welby!" Recognizing Drew's brother's name, I craned my neck around to get a good look at the red-haired boy on whose head Slughorn was placing the still-fuming Hat.

"Come on, come on, _Gryffindor,_" Drew pleaded in a whisper as the moments dragged on. Apparently Brad's mind was a real puzzle, because the Sorting Hat was taking its sweet time deciding. Finally, the Hat straightened up, and then: "HUFFLEPUFF!"

Drew groaned resolutely. "I saw that one coming. Darn." Laughing, I returned to my careful examination of my class schedule. I could tell already that this year would be full of surprises.

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Gryffindor

Andrew Welby

September 1, 2007

After the _fantastic_ feast in the dining hall, we Gryffindors proceeded to follow our prefect up the familiar route of marble staircases, hidden doors, and secret passageways that led to the Gryffindor common room. As we turned down the final corridor on the seventh floor, a barrage of dungbombs came raining down from overhead, followed by Peeve's shrill voice, "_Little Griffies want a wiffy? _he cackled, soaring above. Some of the first years jumped back in fright, but the prefect merely rolled his eyes and led us down a different corridor.

This was a new hallway for me. I stared in amazement at all of the portraits, most having something to do with birds. It was about halfway down the hallway when I spotted a portrait of Uric the Oddball. He was in a purple nightgown and cap, and behind him was a room containing a bed and no less then fifty pet augureys. I got excited, and frantically tapped Mel on the shoulder.

"What is it?" she snapped impatiently, then saw where I was pointing. "Oh. Your depressed bird again. I swear that thing is suicidal."

She was only partially correct. I had failed to convince Professor Vance, our head of house, to let me bring my pet augurey--or as we from Ireland call it, _Irish Phoenix_--to school, so I had left it at home. Thunder was a very depressed-looking bird, with a resemblance to a green and black underfed vulture. It laments wildly at the approach of rain. And even with a _Silencio _spell cast on it, it still makes a very audible, low moan whenever rain approaches.

"I bet you like that bird," said Vandy. "It lets you freak out about thunderstorms before they even start. Where did you find out about that thing, anyway?"

"Fantastic Beasts & Where to Find Them," I smiled proudly. "They're actually pretty common near Dublin. Ooh, wait 'till Hagrid finds out!" I grew up with my brother and my childhood friend Davey Kilgour (a Ravenclaw) in Swords, Ireland, a wizarding village directly north of Dublin. Mel was also from Ireland, but farther north.

By this time, we had approached the portrait of a plump woman in a pink dress. This was the entrance to the Gryffindor common room. Our prefect mumbled on to the first years about common rooms and passwords.

"Password?" asked the fat lady after a few minutes.

"_Collapsible Cauldron,_" commanded the prefect. The portrait swung open to reveal a window-shaped hole in the wall. "Come on, right this way."

We clambered through the hole and into the common room. The room was large and circular, with red armchairs and sofas spread around a fireplace. Exhausted from all the festivities, Vandy and I said our goodbyes to Mel and immediately went up to our dorm room with the other third year boys.

Once up the spiral staircase, I chose the four-poster closest to the window. I loved the view from Gryffindor tower looking out onto the grounds. Our suitcases were already there, and we started unpacking. I immediately covered the wall nearest my bed with a _Dublin Dragons_ quidditch poster. The large green and black poster seemed out of place with the red and gold décor, but I was too much of a fan to take it down.

"You know Mel would kill you if she saw that," pointed out Vandy from the bed on the other side of the window. "She's a Ballycastle Bats fan herself."

I shrugged. "And who do you Londoners root for?" I asked him.

"Whoever we want. You and Mel still want me to try out for the team this year?"

"Yeah. We need a focused seeker. That's why we want you."

"Oh, I _know_ you want me cuz I'm _dead sexy_."

I scoffed but let it go. In the next few minutes, everyone had finished unpacking and was silently sleeping in their beds. I looked out the window. It had been pouring rain ever since we arrived at the castle, and now it was thunderstorming. And that didn't just make me feel uneasy because of my dislike of storms, it made me really miss my Irish phoenix and his wailing. I looked around- Everyone else was sound asleep, but I was stuck in my vortex of homesickness. I thought I could hear the low moaning of my Irish Phoenix, but my rational side quickly ruled it out as my homesickness playing tricks on me. I couldn't sleep, and the storm outside was building, so I crept back down to the Gryffindor common room and sat on a sofa, staring into the fire.

"Drew! _Drew!_" I sat up, realizing that I had almost fallen asleep. Looking over to where the noise had come from, I saw Vandy on the landing above hissing down at me. "Drew! Come up here quick- you'll see- er… _hear_ what I mean." I groaned but made my way wearily back up to the common room.

"What is it?" I whispered to Vandy. He motioned to the window. Stooped on the sill, dripping and moaning ferociously was my bird. I flew excitedly to the window, instantly awake.

"You gotta get that thing out of here-- it'll wake up the prefect!" he said as I opened the window and let the Irish Phoenix inside.

"Where should I take it?"

"I don't know, but don't leave it here!" he commanded, literally pushing me out of the room, with Thunder perched on my shoulder.

I wandered down the stairs and out of the common room, greatly annoying the sleeping fat lady. All around me in the corridor portraits were waking up because of the moaning.

"Shut that thing up!"

"I'm trying to sleep here!"

"Quiet!"

I couldn't think of what to do. "_Silencio, SILENCIO!_" but it was no use, as the bird already had a permanent _Silencio_ charm cast upon it. This _was_ quiet for an augurey. Unfortunately, the portraits were not so sympathetic.

"You insolent little…"

"Don't you have any courtesy?"

"Go back to sleep!"

"Do you have any idea what the time is?"

I kept walking, trying to shush Thunder but knowing it was no use.

"What _is _that noise?"

"What a ruckus!

"You are such a little… Oh! Hello, Miss Prince!"

Ahead of me came Juliana Prince, my friend from years past.

"Julie!" I cried out. "What are you doing seven floors away from your bed?"

"Oh, uhh…" she stammered with shifty eyes. "Nothing. What are you doing with that dreadful lump?"

"Oh, well, I'm trying to hide it. Do you know of any places near here?"

She snapped her fingers. "I know the perfect place!"

And we were off. She led the way down the hall, greeting the portraits, who all inexplicably loved her. Nothing more was said about the groaning augurey, all comments now were about how simply amazing this Juliana Prince girl was. I stared at the portraits in disbelief, wondering how one person could be so popular with every single portrait in the entire school.

She stopped in front of the portrait of Uric the Oddball that I had seen earlier. He was awake, and all fifty of his augureys were moaning as loudly as my own. The noise was deafening, but the other portraits in that hallway seemed either to be used to the noise or were busy stuffing cork into their ears.

"Uric!" she said. "How would you like a new friend?"

With a squeal of delight, Uric's painting swung forward, revealing a small cubbyhole, roomy enough for an augurey but not much else. I swiftly put my moaning bird down and promised to visit it often with food. Now that his cries were drowned out by all of the other augureys, I could be at ease that he would not be discovered.

I bid goodnight to Julie and reminded her to head back down to the dungeons.

"Right, right…" she muttered as she took of hurriedly in the opposite direction of the dungeons.

_What is she up to? _I thought to myself, heading back to my room and finally going to sleep.


	3. Chapter 2: Slytherin

Once again, I am stuck waiting for my co-authors to finish writing their sections, and once again I have decided to post without them and update later. I hope you enjoy.

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Slytherin

Juliana Prince

September 1, 2007

"Stupid bloody git with his stupid bloody bird," I muttered in frustration as I waited for Drew's steps to fade. His unexpected appearance and all the noise he had caused was a considerable setback. Even though I had gotten rid of him as quickly as I could, it had taken more than a few minutes to hide the augurey. "_Aetas caelestis_," I whispered, drawing a circle in midair with my wand. Nothing happened. I silently cursed my inability to complete even the simplest charms; my wand—aspen, Chinese fireball heartstring, 8 ¼ inches, completely inflexible—was extraordinary at transfiguration but almost useless in the flowery art of charms. Focusing harder this time, I repeated the incantation. As I drew the circle once more, a floating clock appeared, outlined in orange fire. Murmuring in admiration, some of the portraits nearby began to clap and commend me on a job well done. "Shhh!" I reminded them. The wispy hands displayed 12:06, before quickly fading and leaving the passage dark once again.

I slumped back against the wall, thinking. I had lost almost ten minutes. In my previous years in Hogwarts, I had learned the habitual paths that the teachers took while making their nightly rounds. Yet I had only memorized them to a certain extent…I knew just enough to get me to the Headmistress' office and back within a certain timeframe. Now, due to my lost time, I had no idea where the teachers had moved to.

Oh, but I'm getting ahead of myself. Let me explain from the beginning.

It was only a month into my first year when Professor Slughorn began to take notice of my talent at magic, especially transfiguration and potions. After one particularly productive potions class, he pulled me aside and asked me to join his club for superior students. I, of course, was delighted. The feeling faded at the fairly dismal first "meeting"—all that Slughorn did was wander from student to student, interrogating them on their background and relatives. I, being a proud pureblood, wasn't _worried_ per se. It was just obnoxious and boring, and I didn't really have any famous or rich relatives. Or so I had thought.

"Ah, Prince," he had smiled, noticing me in the corner at last. "How well I know _that _name."

I raised my eyebrows, not comprehending. "I don't know what you mean, sir. My family's pretty average." Average in everything, unfortunately. Mediocre wizards with mediocre connections and a mediocre income. Not exactly a breeding ground for greatness.

Slughorn didn't seem convinced. "You're much too modest, Miss Prince! If _I _were of blood relation to one of the greatest heroes who stood against the Dark Lord, I would be boasting of it to high heaven!" My stupid look of happy confusion was a clear giveaway that I was still oblivious. Chuckling, Slughorn said, "I think I understand. Despite Severus Snape's many valorous deeds, he was still a half-blood. No doubt the Prince family was reluctant to admit that he was of their blood. His mother was Eileen Prince," he explained, realizing that I did not recognize Snape's surname. I knew his mother, though. She had been my grandfather's sister, alluded to frequently by my parents as the blood traitor who I should aspire to be nothing like. "Surely you've heard of him? He was a spy against the Dark Lord who gave his life to help Harry Potter."

"Oh—HIM!" I blurted out, shocked and overjoyed. I had heard of the mysterious double-agent many times in reference to the story of the Dark Lord's downfall. He had even been mentioned in Professor Binns' introductory speech in History of Magic class. "I had—I had no idea—"

"He also used to be a Headmaster of Hogwarts, for a brief time," Slughorn continued. "They say his portrait hangs in the Headmistress' office…" I tuned out the rest of Slughorn's speech, intent upon the information he had just let slip. If he was somewhere in the castle, maybe I could talk to him. My over-zealous imagination took over, envisioning Snape as a confidant, possibly the only real family I had who, like me, did not share the Prince's characteristic blood-mania. Just to think of it…a real hero! I had to see him. I had to speak to him.

One of the things I love about Slytherins is their determination to achieve what they want, and their cunning, clever ways to go about doing so. After spending many an afternoon trying to locate the Headmistress' office, I came up with a brilliant plan. No teacher would ever divulge the location, so who else was there to ask…besides those who had been with Hogwarts since the beginning, those who silently held the school's every secret? The portraits were all too frequently ignored, and surely they would come to love me and trust me if I lavished them with the attention they so craved.

I was right. I quickly came to know the majority of them by name, their likes and dislikes, their dreams. Hoping to gain their trust and admiration, I began helping the portraits with their personal issues, almost like a counselor. I discovered that it was possibly even more effective to thwart their hopes than to immediately gratify them—for example, when the Fat Lady who guarded Gryffindor tower spoke to me of her secret affections for the second-floor portrait of the Duke of Derbyshire, I waited before helping her win him over. That brief period of inaction made her so much more dependent on me, so much more trusting. Call me manipulative, but that's just how we Slytherins roll.

Okay, don't get me wrong. I grew attached to them. Although I once viewed them as mere means of gaining my ends, I genuinely enjoy their friendship and even sometimes come to them for advice. It just doesn't hurt that they make powerful connections, and reveal to me not only passwords into guarded areas but also how to avoid teachers at night. Sometimes, if I'm close to getting caught, they'll even create a loud diversion to help me get away. We're tight.

After a few months of preparations, I finally managed to sneak into the Headmistress' office. The moment I stepped off the staircase and into the round, spacious room, a cold voice greeted me: "Surely, of all the midnight excursions, yours must be the most foolhardy I've ever seen. Tell me, who is your head of house? I need to know who to summon to expel you."

I swung around, and saw the entire wall was COVERED in portraits. _Darn_, I thought, realizing that it was probably stupid of me to assume that Snape's was the only picture McGonagall kept. The speaker was a sour, sallow-faced man with long, greasy black hair. Lesson one in how-to-save-your-skin, I reminded myself: act like a scared little girl to invoke pity. "Please, sir," I begged in my most hysterical, frightened voice, "I-I was just hoping to meet my Uncle Severus. My whole family hates him, and they won't even talk about him, but I think he's a real hero, I really do, but what'll he think of me now if I get expelled, I'm not even worthy to see his face…" Lesson two: burst into tears. I promptly began crying and wailing pathetically.

Had I known who I was speaking to, I probably wouldn't have even attempted to out-con the con-master. As it was, the mere phrase "Uncle Severus" was enough to wipe the dour expression off his face and replace it with one of sentimentality and curiosity. "Your…uncle?" he whispered, a slight tremor in his voice. "But I'm Severus Snape."

Gasping, I stared into his eyes. He looked remarkably like my grandfather when he was young, in the old photographs my father keeps. I could tell he was thinking along the same lines, picking out the slight resemblance I held: my pale skin, dark eyes, long nose. Suddenly laughing, Snape cut through the silence. "You know, if you weren't family, I would never have let you get away with that whine-and-cry routine. It's so cliché." My nerves relaxed, and I giggled, wiping away a few clinging tears.

Through the next two years, I visited him as often as I could, at least once every two weeks. To him, I could tell, I was more of a daughter than anything else. Now, as I sadly watched the last wisps of my time-teller charm fade, I knew this would be the first meeting of ours that I would have to miss. I imagined him, the only awake portrait in the office, waiting through the wee hours of the morning in the hope that I might appear after our time apart over the summer. With a heavy heart, I headed back to the dungeons.


End file.
